


Living or Being

by Emdee



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Reincarnation, Season Finale, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emdee/pseuds/Emdee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the people started hoping again - because of Arthur - Merlin stopped doing so - stopped believing in Arthur's return. It was funny, when he thought about it, how people found their hope as he lost his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living or Being

  

 _He was and he will be._ His father had told him these words and he had not understood then. He had not understood how they sealed his fate. He was. He would be. There was no end for him.

So, for a while, he was. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then came the time he started living again. Then came the time he started enjoying living again.

All the while, he waited. He waited for Arthur's return. He waited for Albion's greatest time of need.

He got married and he stopped waiting for a while. He did not stop looking for Arthur but _he was_. He was, but in a good way. He enjoyed himself, became Merlin and stopped being Emrys for a while.

Then his wife died and he decided to become young once again. Found an apprenticeship, started over. He waited.

He saw people lose hope and gain it again. He saw empire getting built and getting destroyed. He saw the greatest discoveries and the worst of them.

He waited.

He married several times over the centuries, but it did not prevent him from becoming Emrys. From forgetting how to be Merlin.

He waited.

 

O

 

"I'm scared."

Bombs were going off outside and the loud noises they made permeated the air, made it impossible to forget they were in the middle of a war - another one.

The little girl in his arms was looking at him with big eyes full of worry, half of her wanting him to make it all go away and the other half so sure that he wouldn't be able to do anything.

Nonetheless he told her not to be scared, that nothing could happen to her while he was there. Even though his voice was barely audible.

He felt the little girl nodding against his neck, where she was hiding his face. His skin there became wet as she silently cried, so so scared.

And while he was telling her the complete truth, that he would not let anything happen to her, he did n't need deductive skills to understand she did not believe it - that she could not believe it even though she wanted nothing more.

So he started telling her a story. He had always loved stories when he was a kid. His mum used to tell him that only her telling him a story could keep him quiet and not using magic.

So he talked and made sure his voice, his words, were reassuring. He told her how Arthur had come and defended his village back when he was a servant, back when he was Merlin.

And he felt it. Hope. He barely believed it but he felt her fear disappearing as she became enthralled in his story. In Arthur's story.

 

O

 

So he started telling it. Small pieces at first, disjointed scenes of Arhur being courageous, of Arthur inspiring people. Of Arthur becoming his King.

He started telling it to children while in dire situations, when it was the only thing that could bring  back hope.

Then, teenagers and adults started listening in.

Then they stopped hiding and came to sit next to him and the kids on the ground.

During bombings, when they were outnumbered and hiding, frightened and so sure they were about to die, he talked. His magic made sure his voice was heard even when the noise of the battle outside was so loud that you could hardly believe the air raid would really end.

He told them little things too, like how hard Arthur was to wake up in the morning, like how he liked his bread a little burnt. He had spoken of a myth until then and now he spoke of a man.

He never forgot he was Emrys - he could never forget - but, to others, he became the Storyteller.

 

O

 

"Hey, old man, you ok?"

He turned to see a young man looking at him with a cocky smile but attentive eyes. Merlin, once again as an old man - he thought it adequate to tell stories - merely nodded as he took note of the attire - warrior clothing.

"Going to war, young man?"

"Yeah. We can’t crawl and hide forever, right?"

 

O

 

And then, more and more people enlisted, decided to resist, to _stand up_. Men, women, old people, young adults. Those left behind got organised to better protect children and the sick and hurt, to provide resources and back-up to those who fought.

They were attacked, they were outnumbered, but _they lived_. People started to hope once again.

 

O

 

"I wanted to thank you, Storyteller."

As a teenager this time, Merlin smiled with warmth at the woman who had stayed behind once the attack ended - once his stories ended. Nobody could pierce who the Storyteller was - who _they were_ as the Storyteller was a kid, a teenager, a young adult, an old man and all of them - and that only fuelled the myth he was creating around Arthur, around the Once and Future King.

"You don’t need to thank me, Amy, I like telling stories."

If she wondered how he could know her name, she did not ask. Instead, she started laughing - as if there was a joke, an in-joke he obviously did not get.

"Well, of course, thank you for the stories, Storyteller. But, more than that, I never thought... We had lost hope. We were... it was as if we had already lost even if we weren’t defeated yet. But you... you gave us Arthur. You gave us loyalty and honour. You saved us Storyteller. So thank you."

A horrible feeling made it hard to breathe. He could not remember what he told Amy, could not remember why she laughed before she left. He could not remember his legs stopping working, could not remember falling to the ground.

Arthur would return for Albion's greatest time of need. Except, _Arthur had already returned_. What he stood for was back through his stories.

Arthur’s return. Nobody had ever said he would return physically. Because Arthur was once again alive, as an idea, as a model, as _hope_.

As the people started hoping again - _because of Arthur_ \- Merlin stopped doing so - _stopped believing in Arthur's return_. It was funny, when he thought about it, how people found their hope as he lost his.

 

O

 

He kept going - because Emrys did not give up, even if Merlin already did. He kept talking of great battles, of winning against all odds, of never betraying what you believed in.

Late in the night, when he could not sleep, he told himself he had lived through worse, with or without Arthur. Except it was not true as, for the first time ever, he had nothing to look forward to.

 

O

 

He was helping out with cooking dinner, once again as a teenager. As he had experienced, being a teenager was the easiest. People considered him old enough to tell him the truth, to talk to him about how the war was going and he was not old enough that they asked him why he was not fighting - he could not, he just could not obey orders that were not Arthur’s. Sometimes he helped out with a bit of magic, with evening the odds, but no more.

He could be Arthur’s warrior, Arthur’s weapon, but no one else’s - except that Arthur was not coming back.

Elena started humming and he could not help but do the same. He even smiled at the peaceful atmosphere - something that would not have existed a couple of years ago.

 _Arthur had made a difference, even dead_.

"Merlin."

He nearly did not react, because Merlin had died. He had definitely given up this name three years ago when he realised that Arthur would not be reincarnated. Except... Except he jumped and turned around and stopped.

The smile that awaited him... the smile was so _so_ familiar that it _hurt_.

"You really haven’t been easy to find, Merlin."

This cocky and proud expression. The face was not the same but the way his lips twitched, his eyebrows rose...!

"Please tell me you didn’t forget me. It would be reaaaally awkward."

"Arthur."

Warm eyes and a smile and arms around him as he laughed and cried _and felt and lived_.

 

O

 

And that was the beginning of Merlin’s second life. Of Arthur and Merlin. Of Merlin and Arthur. That was a good story. A story of battle and honour. A story of love. A story of life.

A story that was not made to be told but to be lived.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you spot any mistakes so I can fix them.
> 
> Just something I wrote after watching the season finale and had never really finished.
> 
> I tried something else for this OS but not sure it really worked, so, sorry about that if you hated it :)


End file.
